


Loyal to the nightmare

by Hypatia_66



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 06:19:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16057289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypatia_66/pseuds/Hypatia_66
Summary: LJ Once upon a time challenge. Prompt: first paragraph. Theme: sacrificeNapoleon is disturbed by Illya's outlook on life





	Loyal to the nightmare

Since joining U.N.C.L.E. there had been one ever present certainty for Illya Kuryakin. He had always known, and long since accepted, that his life would end prematurely.

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Quitting Waverly’s office, the two agents walked swiftly along the corridor, back to their office to collect their bags.

“Does it ever occur to you,” said Napoleon, “that what we chose to do for a living borders on the psychotic?”

“Frequently. But …”

“Deliberately going out to get shot at and with the intention of possibly killing someone… it’s not Sunday-school teaching, is it?” Napoleon continued, not listening.

“I wouldn’t know. What do Sunday-school teachers do?”

“They teach Sunday school.”

“I got that. What _is_ Sunday school?”

“Even for an ungodly communist, you are strangely ignorant,” said Napoleon. “It’s where you go to learn about the Bible when you’re very young, and it gives your parents a whole morning or afternoon to spend in bed without interruptions.”

“Ah, now that sounds like sense,” said Illya.

“What do Russian parents do to get some private time together?”

“Their kids join the Little Octobrists – Oktyabryata – from seven till nine. Then they join the Young Pioneers. After that, Komsomol.”

“Did you do all that?” Napoleon was intrigued to find his partner so talkative about his life.

“No.”

Well, not that talkative.

“Why not?” he asked, unthinkingly.

“You may have noticed – there was a war,” said Illya.

“And after the war?” Napoleon was treading on sensitive ground now.

“School. University. Navy.”

It was still early in their partnership, but Napoleon had long since discovered that Illya was a sealed book, its pages written in impenetrable code for which he lacked the key. He would have continued trying to decode it even now, but for the need for speed.

They dashed up to the roof where a helicopter was waiting, climbed in and it took off. Napoleon sat back and remembered he’d missed something. “You said ‘but’,” he said.

“What? …When?”

“That’s what I’m trying to remember… I said something about the job we chose to do… and you said something and then, ‘but’. ‘But’ what?”

Illya looked out at the landscape below. “Oh, I just meant… ‘but’ I _didn’t_ choose it,” he said.

“But…” Napoleon was at a loss for a moment. “But you’re so good at it,” he said.

“You’re very kind,” said Illya drily.

“I mean, why didn’t you? Choose it…”

“Everything was chosen for me – you know that, surely? I was trained, I performed well; then I was sent to the West, to university, to Survival School, to New York.” He looked challengingly at Napoleon. “I wasn’t given a choice … and now… Here I am, I can do no other – as someone once said, more-or-less.”

“That was Martin Luther, and he said it because he believed in what he was doing. Do I understand that it isn’t true for you?”

They stared at each other. This was a very strange discussion to be having, and in such a noisy environment, on the way to possible injury or death, when each needed to be sure of the other. Napoleon was a little flushed, Illya rather pale.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Until I came to America I just accepted things – I wasn’t free to think any other way. Now I’m not sure what to believe.”

“No?” Napoleon as usual avoided direct questions – he had learned that much in dealing with this young man, who sometimes seemed like a total stranger.

“No.”

Maybe it did require a direct question.

“Why not?”

“When I was put into the navy, I became a conscientious officer, working for my country, willing to die for my country. But in this line of work – yours and mine – the Geneva Convention doesn’t operate… we have no rights, we are given up to die… And for what? For whom?”

“For the safety of the world. For good people to live in,” said Napoleon – that was the mantra, wasn’t it?

“So they would have us believe.”

“Don’t you believe it?”

“That’s what I don’t know. I know I’m expected to die for it – I expect I _will_ die for it. Like I would have had to die for my country.”

“That’s not true, Illya. You won’t die if _I_ have anything to do with it.”

“You’re such a comfort,” said Illya sardonically, “but what if you aren’t there, or _you’ve_ been killed?”

“I’m hoping you’ll do the same for me – stop me being killed: that’s the idea.”

“Maybe I should just believe in you,” said Illya, smiling a little.

“That would be nice, because I believe in _you_.”

“You believe what in me, Napoleon?”

“That fundamentally you believe in what is good, not what is expedient or what is politically required.”

“What we do _is_ political – a Western construct of what is good and what is evil.”

Napoleon had been in too many situations where the choice had been obvious – as, indeed, had Illya. What was he talking about?

“You’re not telling me you think Thrush has any redeeming qualities?”

“Thrush doesn’t, but some of its minions may do. We act as their judge, jury and executioner. The people we kill can’t appeal against our decision. They are sacrificial victims.”

“So are we, Illya. That’s what we – sorry – what _I_ chose to sign up for.”

“So, we will die, yes – no matter what.”

Napoleon had fallen into the UNCLE job after Korea. He was good at it, and often enjoyed it. But as he recognised, half of his partner was a very different animal – sensitive, a gifted musician; an intellectual, a scientist, always seeking knowledge. Napoleon was baffled by his pessimism because he was also extremely good at this job.

“No, we won’t, Illya. If we believe in each other as being on the side of good – never mind how anyone else defines good and evil – we’ll protect each other and neither of us will die.”

The helicopter was coming in to land. It was time to put theory into practice. Illya looked at his partner and shrugged. “Who lives will see,” he said.

“That’s not funny, Illya.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

Napoleon looked a little startled, so he added, “But as a pessimist, I’m willing to be pleasantly surprised.”

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**Author's Note:**

> Title from “It was written I should be loyal to the nightmare of my choice”: Joseph Conrad’s Heart of darkness
> 
> Martin Luther said in 1521, before being excommunicated, “Here I stand, I can do no other” (Hier stehe Ich, Ich kann nicht anders)


End file.
